


Cry No Longer

by tinyavenger_tonystark



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Play, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Angst, Baby Tony, Baby Tony Stark, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Civil War Team Iron Man, Daddy Thor, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fix-It of Sorts, Good Loki (Marvel), Healing, Hurt Tony Stark, Infantilism, Littles Are Known, Loki & Tony Stark Friendship, Loki (Marvel) is a Good Bro, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Physical Abuse, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Relationship, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Bruce Banner, Slow Burn, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Team Feels, Team Fluff, Team as Family, Tony Stark & Thor Friendship, Tony Stark Angst, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Daddy Issues, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Has Nightmares, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Tony Stark Has Self-Esteem Issues, Tony Stark Has Trust Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, alternative universe- littles are known, little Tony, little Tony Stark, those are nongraphic, umm what else
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-06-22 05:58:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15575286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyavenger_tonystark/pseuds/tinyavenger_tonystark
Summary: This is a realistic look into what would happen after the Civil War, with Tony refusing to fall into little-space, Thor and Bruce back in the picture, and Loki newly healed from his time at Sakaar.This is the stillness after the storm, and Tony and the team must join together after the wreckage and make a home out of the pieces of themselves they have left.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is a lot of angst to go before the light shines once more.

His desk is covered in various sheets and files, strewn about, all of them in different stages of revision. Tony lets out a soft sigh and runs his fingers through his hair, still staring at the Accords as he tries to think of ways to make this better. Steve hadn't made it easy to defend them after he'd run off like that last week; it had taken all of Tony's influence just to convince the government that the fight in Siberia shouldn't be another thing to add to the list of criminal things that Steve had done.

The last thing that Steve needs is a felony assault charge.

The door clicks open, slow and easy, deliberate. He already knows who it is before he looks, but he makes sure regardless. "You haven't eaten yet, buddy," Bruce says, giving him a look as he steps forward with a tray of food that makes Tony's stomach growl with hunger. "I brought you some chicken nuggets, French fries, and a mix of fruits." Bruce places the tray down on the small patch of the desk that isn't covered in paperwork, leaning his hip against the table and looking down at Tony.

"Thanks, Brucie," Tony says, organizing the papers into neat stacks and pulling the tray over to him. "You didn't have to."

"Well, I sort of did," Bruce replies with a sad smile. "How are you holdin' up? Do you need help with the…" He gestures to the paperwork and Tony, although tempted, shakes his head no. He has to be the one to do this.

He just _has_ to be.

Bruce sighs, and Tony can tell that he's about to say something, but he falters visibly. "We can help you, Tony."

Tony doesn't believe that, but he nods anyway. "I know," he says instead, "I'll tell you if I need help."

"How long has it been since you've been-"

"Don't," Tony says, his chest burning as he looks up at Bruce. He can't talk about that, can't let himself remember that, once, he was happy. He can't let himself remember the days that he used to spend laughing carelessly. If he does, he might forget that those days are gone and that now, he's alone and couldn't afford to let himself feel those things.

Bruce stops his sentence but it's clear on his face that he doesn't want to let this go just yet. "You know, Thor got classified as a caregiver. And I tested as a baseline, so I still got taught the basics of care-giving in high school. For _god's sake_ , Tony, you can't keep refusing to regress. It's unhealthy and we both know it. Please, just... Take care of yourself."

Tony bites his tongue, trying to keep the quivering mess in his chest from bursting out. "I'm fine."

Bruce deflates, nodding. "Alright. Well, if you need anything, you know where to find me, okay? I'll see you later."

Tony watches him go, waiting until Bruce is gone until he drops his head to the desk. _In and out. In and out._ Something in his chest trembles and thrashes as he imagines letting himself be little again. He doesn't want to be little anymore. He doesn't want to be alone anymore.

He wants to forget.

Why can't the world just let him forget?

"Friday, initiate protocol 5," he says with the cold glass that covers his desk pressed against his forehead. His breath fogs it up with every exhale, but he doesn't care. The lights dim, and the hum of the different machines fades to silence. Soft music plays in the office and he slowly let the tension seep from his shoulders, not opening his eyes until he's sure that tears won't seep out from them. He doesn't want to cry- he's scared that if he does cry, he won't be able to stop.

He's so tired of crying.

He's spent so long with tears running down his face that if he'd collected them all in jars, he would probably have enough to fill an ocean by now.

The flip-phone in the drawer of the desk calls to him like a physical force, but he ignores it. He can't buckle now. If he picks that phone up, he knows that within a week the entire team of rogue avengers would be living in the compound with him and he isn't ready. Not yet. Not with images of blood splattered over his chest still haunting his dreams.

He is so afraid these days.

"Sir?" Friday calls, keeping her voice gentle like she knew to do during Protocol 5- a protocol which meant that, in simple terms, he's close to an overload and needs peace and quiet. "Your food is getting cold, and you have an appointment with Mister Everett Ross in an hour."

Tony let out a groan and sat up, beginning to pick at the food that Bruce brought him. He's going to need all the energy he can muster up if he's going to be meeting up with more government officials.

"How's T'Challa?" Tony asks the moment he walks in, taking off his coat and throwing it over the back of the chair before he takes a seat in front of Everett.

Everett nods, fiddling with a pen. "He's doing good. Dealt with a murderous but misunderstood cousin, opened up Wakanda to the world. He's doing… good." A faint smile passes over his face before he looks up and remembers the reason he's here in the first place and his face sobers. "So, Tony, how are you faring?"

"I'm fine," Tony replies, rubbing his palms over his bare arms, the sharp chill of the room making goose pimples to rise all over his arms. "What did you want to talk about?"

Everett opens the folder in his hands, passing it over without saying a word. "Thaddeus Ross is currently in prison and waiting for trial- at this rate with all the proof that we've got on him it's pretty much impossible for him to not get convicted, but we were wondering if you'd like to add another charge."

Tony stares at the pictures of himself that were taken as evidence, along with several pictures of a medical bay and syringes. "What-" he clears his throat to get the lump from his throat, "would the charge be?"

"Unethical human experimentation," Everett says after a few beats of overwhelming silence. "What he did was in no way legal, not to mention that it wasn't something you consented to."

The air is too thin and too thick all at once, sitting like tar in Tony's lungs as he doubles over.

_He can't breathe._

There isn't enough air in the world for him to be able to breathe again.

"I don't- I don't want-" Tony stammers, but the words are blocky, and his tongue feels too heavy to control. He hugs himself, eyes wide as he blinks frantically.

Everett is at his side in an instant. He's used to this by now, after all, Tony isn't his first client nor his first nervous little.

 _He's used to having such an unstable client_ **,** Tony thinks bitterly. "Tony," Everett says, placing a hand on Tony's shoulder. "Breathe for me. We don't have to put that in if you don't want to. Just breathe."

Tony's face burns in shame as he clutches blindly at his chest, a wall of fire burning him up from the inside out.

_Unethical human experimentation._

The fan is the only thing making any noise in the room, loud and unbearable as it keeps humming along as everything seems to tilt out of balance for Tony. The room is too dark, too small-

too much like Afghanistan and the underground lab-

and the only thing running through Tony's mind is how easily he could die right now, in this room.

Images of restraints and syringes flash through Tony's mind and his body, plagued with persistent trembles, crumples to the ground and he stays there on his knees with Everett whispering something he can't hear past the rush of wind in his ears. Tony's thunderstorm-like eyes stare at the gray tile floor, feeling bare and vulnerable in the small windowless room. If someone attacks now, he'll be helpless, just like he was before.

He doesn't want to die yet.

He doesn't want to pull himself back from the edge of death again. He's not sure if he has the energy to do so anymore.

All he has on is a worn gray Metallica shirt and baggy jeans, which won't protect him from a gunshot or a knife wound or even a solid punch from the right (super soldier) person. If T'Challa hadn't helped him from the Siberian bunker, Tony has no doubts that he would have died there.

_When T'Challa finds him, he is ready to accept that his death is approaching and there is nothing to be done. Lying on the ground with his armor spread around him in pieces, he wants nothing more than to close his eyes and not open them again._

_"Tony? Tony are you awake?" T’Challa asks, shaking Tony's shoulder gently, looking down at the battered man with concern. "Tony, I have both Barnes and Rogers. The fight is over, my friend."_

_**The fight is never over,** Tony wants to say as he looks up at T'Challa. **The fight never ends.** It will only end when the lights go out and Tony is out of the game- it'll only end when Tony dies._

_He says none of those things, instead opting to take his time to wipe the blood from his face._

_There is hesitation on T'Challa's face before he speaks again. "I can have them transported to Wakanda for the safety of both the American citizens and to further ensure that the soldier is no longer a danger."_

_Tony doesn't want to live anymore, nor does he have the energy to argue, so he sits up and gives T'Challa a nod. "Sure, go ahead."_

_He wishes that the king had left him to die, but when the Wakandan king offers him a hand, he has no other choice but to accept it and put one foot in front of the other like he'd been doing all his life. It isn't fair though._

_Roughly 53 million die each year._

_151,600 die each day._

_6,316 die each hour._

_105 per minute._

_Almost 2 per second._

_So why is he- a sinner, a reprobate, a broken and worthless machine- alive? Is death too merciful? Is oblivion too easy on his sinful soul? Is that why he must be forced to keep going despite the weight on his shoulders?_

_Is that why he must keep going- is his punishment not to die but to live in agony until he has paid off the debt of his mistakes?_

He is so fucking _tired_.

Time passes like honey dripping between his fingers. His mind dissolves like stars exploding behind his eyes. His shoulders slowly stop quaking and the sensations return to his body in fragments.

When he opens his eyes again, he's still on his knees, the files open in front of Everett as he reviews them. Everett gives him a once-over. He coughs and shakes his head. "Sorry," he says to the silence, standing and pushing himself back onto the steel chair, exhausted beyond belief. "Where were we?"

 _Aside for the whole 'unethical human experimentation', of course,_ Tony thinks.

Everett doesn't mention the procedure that Thaddeus had forced Tony to undergo without asking if he'd like it, nor about the way that Tony spent hours thrashing around on the operating table, feeling like his insides were aflame with hellfire, screaming until his voice was hoarse. Everett doesn't bring up the way that Tony woke up feeling like he was back in Afghanistan, freshly operated on, feeling like his body was, once again, not completely his own.

_"I might not be able to turn you back in time all that well, but I can certainly ensure that you don't keep aging forward. If this works, it might just be the next biggest thing on the market- well, perhaps littlest might be the best word for it," Thaddeus says with a laugh as Tony struggles against the restraints. "Stop struggling. This is what's best for you."_

Thaddeus has injected him with a different version of the Extremis formula that hadn't been stabilized yet, one which was made solely to make sure that he would remain one age forever, a variant of the super soldier serum that made it impossible for Tony to die.

He'd tried.

He'd tested it out.

He'd _failed_.

Everett closes the meeting quickly, offering his hand to Tony and telling him that he'd keep in touch. He leaves behind a pamphlet with brightly colored letters on the front, as well as three sets of smiling couples on the cover.

_Lonely? Then Little Haven might be for you! Little Haven is an agency whose main purpose is to match Littles and Caregivers together. It has been proven to have a high success rate, using different techniques- personality surveys, mathematical algorithms, and compatibility prediction. Don't be shy! Give us a call at 347-220-1730._

A wave of sickness washes over Tony as he stares at the pamphlet. It would be so _easy_ to allow himself to regress, but he can't. Not when the world needs its hero, Iron Man. Not when his friends- _is he even allowed to call them that anymore?_ \- need him to defend them and make sure they're free.

He stumbles blindly out of the gray room, finding his way to the bathroom, where he presses himself into the tub. He doesn't turn the tap on, nor does he shed his clothes, but he lets his eyes slip close and waits for his mind to clear.

This time, it is Thor who comes. "I went to your lab to bring you sustenance, but as you were not there, I asked Lady Friday where you were. What are you doing in the tub, Anthony?" Thor asks, a smile pulling at his lips. Tony opens his eyes and gives him a small smile back. There are some things that cannot be explained to others without context, and really, climbing into an empty tub and staying there for hours isn't something even Tony could logic away.

"Honestly? I have no clue, but I liked the quiet," he responds with a shrug, taking Thor's offered hand. "And you don't have to keep calling Friday "Lady Friday". She's an AI."

"She is a lady," Thor says as if it is obvious. "She deserves the same respect as one." He hooks an arm around Tony's, walking him back to Tony's quarters silently. Tony keeps his gaze straight ahead, and Thor takes this as his chance to look over the young mortal, his heart aching in his chest as he sees the sorrow clear on the young one's face. When he was on Midgard last, Tony was not nearly quite this devastated or mournful; yes, he still had those woeful brown eyes, but his eyes are now so full of terror that has no place being there.

Thor doesn't know exactly what happened between Tony and Steve, but he knows enough of it to think that he should have been here. He was an Avenger and a part of the team- _he_ should have been here, if not to take a side then at least to provide aid and care to both parties.

But that's the past and now all he can do is keep moving forward.

Tony takes his seat at the desk, and Thor gives him a soft smile that has an odd way of making Tony feel very small. "Whatcha smiling at?" Tony asks, and Thor shakes his head.

"Nothing," Thor says. He crosses his arms and leans against the wall with one shoulder, watching as Tony looks down at the mac and cheese, poking at it with his fork. "How did your meeting go?"

Tony shrugs. "It sucked. I mean. You found me in the fucking tub. I had a panic attack during the interview because Everett said, 'unethical human experimentation' and he left a stupid pamphlet. So, uh, yeah."

"A pamphlet?"

Tony gestures to the pamphlet on the bed, eating as Thor walks over to give it a look. "This agency sounds most helpful. Why not contact them?" Thor asks, perusing the contents.

There really is no easy way to explain it to someone else. Tony can't say "I'm afraid" because that'll lead to questions of "what are you afraid of?" and he doesn't know how to answer that question without bringing up Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, without mentioning the terror that had run through his veins as he was left in Siberia with a powered down suit and a broken arc reactor. He couldn't say "I'm not little" because everyone and their mommas know that he's a little at this point- _gotta love news reporters, amirite?_

And he can't say that he doesn't want to contact the stupid agency because he misses Steve either. Because he already knows that Thor will give him a sad pitying smile, trying to offer comfort that Tony doesn't know how to accept any more.

Tony wants to curl into a ball and forget that the world exists these days. But he can't do that.

He has the world on his shoulders and he doesn't know how to put it down. Carrying the weight is the only thing he knows how to do anymore. And it hurts but what hurts more is the disappointment in his team members' eyes. What hurts more is the feeling of failure, of watching his dreams slip between his fingers like honey, of watching everything burn to ashes in front of him.

"I'm busy" is the excuse that he settles for in the end. Thor can see right through that, Tony knows, but Thor doesn't comment on it. That's one of the good things about Thor: he's good at pretending not to understand, often going for the act of obliviousness for the sake of either humor or the other person's dignity. Instead of calling Tony out, he nods, still reading through the pamphlet. "Perhaps, when the time is right, I will give this agency a visit. I'd like a little one of my own someday." 

Tony gives him a small, sad smile. "You'd be a good dad."

Thor perks up at that, hope and relief written across his face. "You believe so?"

"I know so." Tony's been around Thor long enough to know how he is, how he tends to adopt every stray he can find, believing in the best in them even when they only show their worst. It was what made Thor cling onto the idea of Loki being redeemable even after Loki had tried his damnedest to shoot down that idea, lashing out with claws and teeth, terrified of being controlled and terrified of being alone.

Thor ended up being correct, of course. Loki did end up being redeemable, and after spending time on Sakaar among other similar people, healing under the watchful eye of En Dwi Gast- the Grandmaster, he was called- he was freed from the mind control that he was under and healed from the scars on his soul left by magical mind-tampering.

Loki reminds Tony an awful lot of himself sometimes, with the faux confidence and the sarcastic comment always ready to roll off his tongue. But the difference is that Tony still has panic attacks and can't bring himself to trust anyone. He can't allow himself to laugh like Loki now can.

He's so plagued by nightmares that he's forgotten how to dream.

Friday comes alive in the monitor, breaking the quiet peace that had filled the room. Thor blinks and Tony turns back to his meal. "Thor, Bruce is requesting your presence."

"Ah, thank you, Lady Friday. Inform him that I will be there soon." Thor turns to give Tony a look, half assuring and half pleading. "If you need me, have Lady Friday inform me."

Tony nods.

It's a lie, of course, he knows that if he needs anyone he'll suffer silently in his room. He knows that nothing short of an attack would make him call for help, and even then, it would be with great reluctance.

However, he knows that if he needs someone to comfort him, Thor would come. That is what bothers him most about the two. If he called for either Bruce or Thor, he knows that they would come, eyes filled with concern and gentleness that Tony doesn't deserve. He knows that if he was to reach for Thor right now that Thor would stop and stay even though Bruce is calling for him.

He knows that it's really that simple.

One gesture, one word, and he could get what he needs.

But he doesn't deserve it.

There's a meeting tomorrow to attend, more paperwork to fill out, and a world that needs saving. And no matter what others say, a little cannot be the one to save it.


	2. Chapter 2

A month passes. Tony manages to convince the government to acquit Steve of the charges held against him, but he ignores the constant pinging of the second mobile phone that Steve sent in the mail. Tony has no idea how Steve's even getting these phones, but he's not going to be the one to ask.

T’Challa sends him updates regularly about Bucky and his mental health status, as well as updates on the other Avengers. The only one that T’Challa doesn't mention is Steve, and Tony is glad for it. He doesn't know who told T’Challa not to mention Steve, but he won't be the one to argue against it.

Thaddeus Ross is put in jail for life with no chance of parole. Everett and Tony go through his files and dig up everything that he's ever done wrong in his career. Tony is good at getting into things, and Everett- Tony must admit- knows exactly how to land someone in a cell. They comb through the files with surgical precision, finding heavy evidence of political corruption, illegal experimentation, illegal detainment, illegal possession of weapons and unauthorized chemicals, illegal authorization of government agents, and more.

By the time they're finished presenting the evidence, there's so much evidence that the judge had no other choice but to pronounce him guilty.

When Tony goes home that night, he cries himself out for the first time in what feels like forever, sitting in the tub with his knees pressed to his chest, sitting there until the water turns cold and goose pimples cover his arms and legs. By the time he's done crying, he gathers himself from the tub and pushes himself back to the usual composed version of himself he's so used to being.

It's easy to pretend if you can momentarily forget the truth.

"Extinguish fires!" Dum-E says in a high robotic voice. Tony sighs, wondering momentarily what possessed him to give each of the bots their own personalities and a function that allowed them to speak. When he'd thought of it (after two days of being awake), it had seemed like such a good idea, but… "Fires!"

"Dum-E, there's no fire," Tony says, feeling like he's scolding a two-year-old.

Dum-E only quirks his head- or what's supposed to be his head, anyway- and beeps. "Dum-E has extinguished fires."

"There's wasn't any fire in the first-" Tony stops, rolling his eyes. "Whatever. Extinguish whatever fires your faulty coding thinks it sees. Just stay away from me, I'm working on something."

From the corner of the lab, U and Butter-fingers turn their way. "Dad is sad?" U asks, and Tony almost laughs from the question.

"Rhyme!" Dum-e says cheerily, which is basically his emotional state 24/7. U is the more emotionally nuanced one, while Butterfingers acts more as an older sibling to the two. Basically, Dum-E is the dumb yet bubbly youngest child, U is the rebellious punk middle child, and Butterfingers is the scatter-brained nerd looking after the younger two.

Dewey, Reese, and Malcolm, in that order.

Butterfingers slides forward, and Tony, exasperated but vaguely touched, takes the offered can of motor oil. "Thank you, I appreciate the… sentiment."

"Why is dad feel sad?" U asks, handing Tony a pencil.

"Does," Tony corrects. "And I don't feel sad. I don't feel sad at all."

"Dad feels tired?" Dum-E asks and Tony wonders if these bots think that the only emotions he's capable of are sad and tired. At the moment, he can't deny that those two emotions have been his primary emotions for the last month.

He relents. "Yes. Dad-" He clears his throat. "Dad feels tired."

The bots seem to share a moment, and Tony thinks- not for the first time- how sentient these three actually are. They're sentient enough to pass the Turing Test, but when all U does is pout and all Dum-E does is beep around the lab like a dog on crack, sometimes he wonders if he's truly created a sentient being or just an illusion of one.

Yet at this moment, as they turn to him silently, he can almost feel the emotions they radiate. Even without eyes or a human form, he can tell from the bow of their heads and the stillness of their parts that they feel his sadness just as strongly.

"Butterfingers loves dad," says the robot, towering over the other two, clicking his claws together anxiously.

Tony's such a great AI engineer he managed to give a goddamn robot anxiety. How's that for being a good dad? It reminds him an awful lot of Howard, which- ew.

"I love you too, big guy," Tony says, throat feeling tight all of a sudden.

Dum-E beeps and Tony allows himself to be embraced by the bots 2.0. He's a bit glad that he thought to recreate and improve the bots, after a long time of refusing to alter them for the sake of keeping them something that was strictly tied to his past.

Dum-E's the first robot that he made successfully, and one that he made just to show his dad that he _was_ capable of making something good. When Howard took his blocks and toys away, he sat in the lab until he could make himself a friend, creating something alive from wires and machine parts.

After Dum-E, Tony couldn't stop making more, driven by his need to have a friend, to have something near him that could simulate the human companionship that Tony didn't receive elsewhere.

When Tony met Rhodey, he felt like something he'd been missing all his life had been given to him, without warning and without preamble. Rhodey was the type of person that wasn't there one second, but the next it was like they've been there forever. Meeting him was like blinking and seeing color for the first time, seeing everything so clearly and vividly, and Tony's mind cleared the dull haze that filled it and he learned how to speak without being afraid of taking up too much space with his existence.

_"Is… someone sitting here?" Tony asks the boy at the table, some kid from his aerospace engineering class. The boy shakes his head and Tony lets out a sigh of relief. "Thank god."_

_"You're Tony. Tony Stark, right?"_

_Tony frowns, shoveling mashed potatoes into his mouth. "Yeah, that's my name. What's yours?"_

_"James Rhodes. You can call me Rhodey though," Rhodey says, and Tony flashes him a smile. "Why aren't you sitting with the other…" he hesitates, before pointing to the nearby group of smart, upper-class white folks that would rather swallow their designer shoes before letting Rhodey sit with them._

_Tony scoffs and rolls his eyes. "And subject myself to unnecessary torture? No thanks. They get offended that I'm 14 and smarter than them, even though it isn't my fault they're obviously dull and stupid. I don't know how much their fathers had to pay to get them accepted here, but-" he shrugs. "What about you? Why are you alone?"_

_"I'm black," Rhodey says as if it's obvious, laughing. Tony mouths an 'oh' and returns to his food. "What's up with the technicolor bruises on your skin? No offense but the concealer just makes them stand out."_

_"I had to borrow the concealer from Sally," Tony shrugs, "And… As I said, some of the adults don't like it when younger folks have more brains than they do."_

_"They hurt you?" Rhodey frowns, and Tony shrugs again. "Who?"_

_Tony looks over at the three teens standing by a group of girls. "The one in the red sweater and khakis. His name's Sebastian, I think. It doesn't matter. I've been through worse."_

_When he sees Sebastian walk into class with a black eye, Tony doesn't comment, giving Rhodey a knowing smile as he slides into the seat beside him. Tony never sits anywhere else after that._  

With Rhodey, Tony could say "I'm scared" and not have to be alone anymore. He could say "I don't want to do this anymore" and he'd get a warm hug instead of a scoff and eye-roll. With Rhodey, Tony doesn’t have to keep hiding who he is, and he could just _be_ without worrying that he'd get hurt or laughed at for his vulnerability.

"Sir," Friday calls Tony from his thoughts and he looks up at the ceiling. "There's an incoming phone call from one Steve Rogers. Should I let it go to voice-mail or simply disallow him from continuing his attempts at communication?"

Tony shrugs, turning on his computer and clicking on something random, just wanting to toy around with game development to pass the time. "Your choice."

Friday leaves it at that, and Tony pretends that the hair on the back of his neck doesn't tingle at the mere mention of Rogers. Dum-E and the other bots return to what they were doing, Butterfingers sliding out of the room.

Tony is so enraptured by the game he's making that he doesn't even notice that he's spent the entire day sitting in front of the computer until the door clicks open.

That's often how he gets dragged back to reality these days. The creak of the door and a disapproving frown as he's handed food or invited to dinner.

" _No thanks, I'm not really hungry. I had Friday send me up some food earlier," Tony lies, and he can see the disbelief on Thor's face, so he continues. "If I get hungry later, I'll grab something to eat."_

It's often just an alternation between Rhodey, Thor, Bruce, and Pepper at this point. The four have very different means of achieving their goal.

Rhodey sits there and jokes with him until Tony's in a good enough mood to say yes (or not put up enough of a fight), pulling him to his feet and taking him to the kitchen to grab some food or taking them to a restaurant to eat. He'd bring junk food and anything he thought could tempt Tony into eating, and he'd put on a movie so that Tony would fall asleep without meaning to even though he never admitted that was why he'd chosen some boring-ass movie to begin with.

Thor usually stands there with his arms crossed, hovering over Tony and talking about how his health should be more important than whatever it was he was doing on the computer, persuading and insisting until Tony buckled down and joined them for dinner to escape those disapproving eyes. When it came to night time, Thor didn't have a technique that didn't involve waiting until Tony was almost dead on his feet to begin telling stories about the history of Asgard, explaining things that would send Tony straight to bed.

Bruce usually just comes down with the food ready, never willing to push Tony into something he didn't want and never seeing the point in causing unnecessary conflict when there was a different way around it. As for sleep, Bruce usually just ended up covering Tony in a blanket wherever he finally fell asleep after not sleeping for days. "If you can remain healthy, then the way you remain healthy doesn't really matter."

And Pepper? Pepper comes down to Tony's lab with her heels clacking under her feet, a worried frown pulling at her lips no matter how she tried to hide it. She'd say _Tony_ and Tony would know that meant he'd gone a bit too far in the whole not-eating and not-sleeping business. Pepper didn't really have to do or say anything to coax Tony from the lab, because her presence itself made it worth it.

She could hug him and Tony would feel like the broken pieces of him were being pulled together. He felt safe. Secure. Content.

Pepper is the tree that keeps Tony from getting burned by the harsh rays of the sun and he sits under her shade, safe until he has to step back out.

_"You don't have to go, Tony," Pepper says, her hand pressed to Tony's face._

_Tony holds her wrist, bowing his head. "I do. I have to make sure they're safe, Pep. It's my duty, as Iron Man, protector of humanity, supreme overlord of technlogy, yadda yadda yadda."_

_Pepper doesn't smile. "Will you be back?"_

_Tony grins. "Aren't I always?"_

"Anthony," the person says, and Tony pauses. The voice is not Bruce nor Thor, neither Pepper nor Rhodey.

It's Loki.

Tony swivels around to face him.

(He moves too quickly, the hair on the back of his neck tingling from having someone behind him. He has learned that this is never a good thing with people he doesn't know that well.)

Loki raises his hands in placation. "I come in peace. I only mean to invite you to dinner, because Thor said that you haven't eaten and Bruce is otherwise occupied." He looks away, eyes trailing over the posters about artificial intelligence on the wall. "I'd like to share dinner with you, if you're amenable."

Tony looks at Loki, who's standing there a good ten feet away, wearing a cardigan that makes him look… human. There's a calculation in his eyes that Tony muses must be from being alive for so long, but with his hair hanging in ringlets around his shoulders and his face open, he looks softer than he did some years ago. His simple cotton shirt and unstraightened hair brings out the human in him, looking all soft edges and tender smiles.

"Sure," Tony agrees softly. Since Thor had arrived on Earth with Loki and Bruce in tow, Loki's been different from who Tony met a few years back. He laughed more, joked more, seemed more alive in ways that he couldn't describe. But even so, he often sat in the garden as if he was mourning in quiet, away from the prying eyes of everyone else.

_Tony finds him there by accident, having left the communal floor to have a moment's silence. The garden often gives him peace, even if it isn't finished yet the swing bed-bench was always comforting to be in._

_Loki's sitting there when Tony walks in, his profile highlighted by the sun, his dark hair falling around his face as he stares at his hands. Not knowing what to do, torn between staying and leaving, Tony freezes long enough for Loki to register his presence. Their eyes meet, the silence stretching on for a few seconds before Loki gives him a small shrug. "Don't stand there on my account. Sit."_

_So he does, feet moving of their own accord, and he learns about the Mad Titan, about Odin's neglect and perpetually disappointed gaze, and about the planet called Sakaar._

_"A home for the lost and unloved," Loki said to describe it, with yearning burning in his eyes as he stared at the sky. Tony's never been on Sakaar, but when Loki describes it, he feels like he has and he misses it, too._

Loki gives Tony a soft smile. "Come along then."

The walk to the kitchen is silent, Tony lost in thought about how the kitchen was once full of life and energy when the Avengers still lived with him. Loki takes this as his chance to observe the young mortal without risking Tony's emotional defenses slamming up, as they usually do when he thinks someone might see how hurt he is by what happened with Rogers.

Tony is thinner than he should be, his collar-bones popping out from beneath his sweater, looking like he's run down into the ground with the dark circles under his eyes. Loki's spent a lot of time observing him from afar, seeing the way his eyes glisten like dying stars, the subtle tremble of his hands when he pushes himself too far.

Tony reminds him an awful lot of himself from before.

Thor often expresses his concern about Tony to Loki, saying that he should have been there when Steve and Tony fell apart in the worst of ways possible.

_"When he finally comes down," Thor says, polishing his newest toy- he calls it the Stormbreaker- as he speaks to Loki. "I will be the first one there to bring him the comfort he so desperately pushes away. I do not understand why he must punish himself so, brother. I do not understand why he deprives himself of comfort- and even sustenance and rest- when it is obvious he needs it."_

_Loki deliberates on his words for a long time before he answers. "Maybe he feels that he doesn't deserve it."_

_The silence that greets his words is one of sadness, and Loki cannot bring himself to meet Thor's eyes. He excuses himself and his feet find their way to the garden, where he sits staring at the empty flower bed, lost in thought._  

"I hope that chicken alfredo is okay for you," Loki says as Tony takes his seat. "Banner made it earlier. It's all that we have at the moment."

Tony gives him a soft smile, adjusting himself. "Yeah, of course. Anything's fine."

_Tony sits across the table, smiling shyly at Steve as Steve hands him a sandwich. "Here you are, love," Steve says with a smile. "Sorry I couldn't make anything better."_

_"Anything you make is good," Tony responds easily, tapping his feet against the tile floor._  

Loki sits across from him, looking into those mournful eyes with his own grief twinging in his heart. Every time he looks into Tony's eyes memories of his darling children flash in his mind, and perhaps that is part of what draws him to Tony. There's a tangible fragility in Tony's eyes and heart, something wet and broken and unbearably sad that only someone who has experienced similar hardship could understand.

It feels like an eternity ago since Loki had last held a child, let alone parented one, yet with Tony, a part of Loki that he's almost forgotten about comes up from the surface. Sometimes, he feels like all he's ever been is a parent- but is he even really a parent anymore if his children are gone?

"What have you been up to lately?" Tony asks.

Loki pauses, taking a drink of the apple juice. "I've been trying to learn more about the history of Midgard and reading some of the most famous works by different writers all over the world, from Oscar Wilde to Leo Tolstoy. Shakespeare, in particular, has captured my interest."

"Oh?" Tony makes a mental note to buy Loki some books to give him something to help him pass his time. "I never really got into classic stuff beyond Sherlock Holmes and stuff they made us read in school. You look like an avid-reader type of person though. You give off that… brainy vibe."

"That's… a very high compliment coming from one the brightest minds of the century," Loki says, and Tony shakes his head. "It's true. You created something beyond its time, something that could withstand even _me_. It's not something most people can do."

Tony picks at his food, pushing around the noodles. "Thanks."

"What about you? What have you been up to recently?"

 _Aside for ignoring Steve's calls and texts, I've been actively trying not to break apart._ "I've been developing new software."

"Yeah?" Loki asks, pushing a stray piece of hair from his face, giving Tony a look. He knows that if he pushes too hard, Tony might just shatter in front of him. He doesn't think of the man as fragile nor delicate, but there is a certain timidness in him that incites Loki's urge to stay a fair length away, the same way that seeing a wounded puppy would make someone kneel and wait until the puppy was the one to come closer so as not to frighten it.

"Yeah," Tony says, keeping his eyes anywhere else but Loki.

Dinner passes by without event, and in the end, Tony retires to his room, lying awake until well past midnight, plagued by thoughts about the "Civil War". He misses Steve and the rest of the team. He misses having a family that didn't consist of just Thor, Bruce, and Loki.

He misses having a home.

He wants to go home.

The problem is that he's already home, even if his messy little heart doesn't quite know it yet.

When the night ticks 3 am, Tony gives up on sleep and finds his way back to the garden with his violin in his fingers. Exhaustion pulls at his mind but there's a heaviness in his chest that cannot be slept away. There are times where words do not reach and nothing else can express what he feels and during those times he reaches for his familiar friend, playing a melody he knows by heart- a melody that comes _from_ his heart.

He learned how to play a long time ago, sitting under his mother's gaze as she told him to stand straighter, to play smoother, her thin fingers tapping away on the piano to make his piece complete. She wrote the piece and he perfected it.

_"You do not stop when you get it perfect for the first time, Antonio. You only stop when it is impossible for you to make mistakes."_

The message was clear: keep going, try harder, be better.

The lesson sticks and it leaks into other parts of Tony's life- being an Avenger, making Jarvis and Friday and U and Dum-E and Butterfingers, making Iron Man, _being_ Iron Man-

being Tony Stark.

_Keep going, try harder, be better._

Tony sits under the moon, playing a haunting lament to express everything he couldn't say out loud, letting his troublesome heart take the reins for once.

_"Papa?" Tony asks, looking up at Howard as Howard takes another swig of bourbon. Howard's eyes meet his, burning with intensity as he looks at his son, a frown already pulling at his face. Tony hesitates, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Are you okay?"_

Howard's eyes are not cold tonight, _Tony notes. They're weary and heavy with heartache as he looks down at Tony, but there is an air of melancholy that surrounds him as he pats the space on the sofa next to him. "Come here. I have to tell you something."_

_Tony pauses. Howard has a bad reputation for snapping when he's drunk- his hands fly too fast and too hard and Tony is usually the unlucky one in his way, ending up with bruised knees and arms when Howard got too handsy. But there's a softness in Howard's eyes, something that isn't angry or bitter, and Tony shuffles forward and sits beside Howard before he even realizes he's moving._

_"You're growing up," Howard states as if it's something he's just realized. "You should be ready."_

_Tony, eight years old, doesn't understand. "For what?"_

_Howard gives him a small smile, taking another sip of his drink before he hands it to Tony. "Have a sip. It's okay, just don't let your mom know. She'll have my head on a pike if she finds out," Howard says with a high and loose laugh, pushing the cup into Tony's hands. "It'll take the edge off. Come on. First drink with dad. My dad made me drink when I was around your age, it's fine, it'll turn you into more of a man."_

_Under his father's warm gaze, Tony hesitantly takes a sip, coughing immediately. His grimace turns into a laugh, however, when he hears Howard's chuckles. "That's gross."_

_"It's juice. It helps." His eyes soften as he looks at Tony, taking the cup from Tony's fingers. "You should be careful, Anthony. You should never show your heart to anyone, do you understand? Use your brain and never your heart and you'll never get hurt. Caring is a disadvantage that can kill you but keep your heart beating long enough to extend the agony."_

_Tony doesn't understand some of what Papa's saying, but he nods anyway. He has a feeling that this is something he's not supposed to forget._

_The clock chimes and Jarvis pads into the room, looking the two of them over. Howard shares a quiet look with Jarvis and sighs. "You should probably go to bed now, boy. Remember what I said. Use your brain."_

Tony's so tired of using his brain though, and there comes a time in life where the brain demands a rest and heart demands to be felt.

He doesn't know how long he plays, but when he finally stops his muscles are sore in the most delectable of ways, the pain a familiar friend when it came to playing the violin. The night is frozen around him, stillness embracing him in a blanket of ultraviolet silence, and there is a strain inside of his chest but it's easier to ignore now; playing music always made it easier to push back against the tides of emotion that flooded him.

It makes his mind quiet, washing away the words in letters and numbers and sounds, leaving nothing but the emotions that have nestled deep inside of him, but this way, it doesn't hurt nearly as bad. When he's playing music, it's like he's not pushing it down but instead, he's looking the keening pain in the eyes and saying _"speak to me, tell me what hurts"._

Tony stays in the garden until the night sky slowly transitions into dawn. He only realizes he fell asleep when he opens his eyes to a bright golden sky.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And with the push of a breeze, Tony falls.

Tony has had other caregivers before, of course. Some of them are his and his alone and some are less of a caregiver and more of a friend who takes care of him.

There’s Obie, who is- contrary to what people think- kind to him until his hunger for power and money starts to outweigh his concern for Tony. Obie’s one of the kind smiles in the world of cold masks, so it’s only natural that Tony learns to lean against him for strength, even when things start to point to betrayal.

Of course, Tony still tries his best to cover his eyes and ears and pretend that it’s all in his mind.

Sure, Obie wasn't perfect. Sometimes his words hit too deep and cut too sharp, sometimes he had a way of making Tony feel like he asked for too much and that taking care of Tony was a chore, but he was better than anything else that Tony had so Tony clung to him like a lost puppy. Between Howard's casual cruelty and Obadiah's needle-point sharp care though, Tony chose Obie because at least there were times that Obie _wasn’t_ unkind.

There were days spent in front of the TV, days spent constructing simple block sets, and there were days when he sat Tony down and told him to relax, that he wasn’t in Afghanistan anymore.

But then Pepper uncovers a secret and Tony couldn’t hide from the truth anymore, so he puts on the Iron Man suit and tries to look braver than he felt as he stands in front of Obadiah Stane.

Then comes a man that Tony meets at a science convention, a soft-haired and soft-mannered guy named John who works as a doctor.

_“It’s a simple life, really, mate,” John says, running his fingers through his sandy blond hair. “I’m not anything special, just a run-of-the-mill physician.”_

_But there’s something in him that draws Tony to him, a fire to the moth that pushes Tony on. There’s something deep and looming in him that Tony feels the need to uncover, and as he spends his days in John’s presence he almost forgets about it, too caught up in the jokes and the gentle fingers running through his hair._

_It’s only a year and a half later, after a bad argument, that Tony learns about the well of anger and violence stirring in John’s heart, pushed down so deep that Tony almost missed it. As he sits on the ground, pressing a crumpled shirt to his throbbing lip, he couldn’t understand how he could have been so stupid._

After John, Pepper comes along, with her kind hands that never hit and soft voice that could chase away the shadows from Tony’s mind. It takes Tony a while to trust her, of course, but things just fall into place naturally with her. He finally surrenders to her care one night when he comes home from an emotionally taxing mission and his grip on his mental space slips.

_She finds him in the garage, frustrated tears running down his face as he tries to yank the metal suit from his bruised body to no avail. “Why can’t anything just work?”_

_Pepper steps forward, taking the screwdriver from Tony’s fingers with ease, kneeling in front of him with a soft look in her eyes that made Tony feel unbelievably small._

_“Hey, it’s alright, big guy. We can fix this, alright? No need for tears, it’s okay. You’ll be okay.”_

And after Pepper, of course, comes a shield that wouldn’t stop coming down- _down_ \- **_down_**.

But before the shield falls, there’s a time of warmth, and there’s laughter in the kitchen every morning and the bed is never empty at night.

Tony calls it heaven on earth once because even though he isn’t a believer, he knows that he never felt as loved as he does then.

It lasts longer and goes deeper than anything else he’s had: with John, Pepper, or Obie. When Tony’s with Steve, he knows that he’s safe. He knows that he’s loved.

Or at least he did. Now, nothing makes sense and in a way that’s _familiar_. Tony’s been afraid for so long that it’s natural. He’s been stagnated in a state of fear and pain for so long he’s forgotten what it means to be happy.

He knows that he’s letting everyone down every time that he flinches from their touch or declines their offers to hang out, but he can’t help but fear that every outstretched hand is another disappointment in disguise. His soul has been touched by dirty hands too many times for him to think that it won’t happen again.

“Sir, there’s something you should see,” Friday interrupts his train of thought, and Tony looks up from the beige carpet. “It’s a news report about you.”

Tony sighs and gestures for Friday to play it. When the screen comes to life, a news channel that Tony only vaguely knows about begins playing, four people sitting around a table with Tony’s picture behind them.

“-and that’s exactly it! What Rogers did-“ A man says, his hand waving around wildly.

_Oh no._

“-is nothing less of _cruel_! If they were just teammates, maybe we could say it’s _just_ assault, _just_ betrayal, whatever. But they’re not _just that_ , are they? They were something more than that! And Tony Stark is a _little_ which makes it even worse! There is nothing justifiable about a man betraying and hurting a little- let alone _his_ little. He might be a national hero, but goddamn it, he was wrong to do what he did! Excuse me for the language, but I think this topic warrants it.”

The crowd laughs and cheers. Tony wraps his fingers around the string of the rug, his face paling as he watches.

The woman sitting next to the man nods empathically, and they continue, unaware of the churning in Tony’s stomach as he watches the news report that’s playing on national TV. “Yeah, I might love Cap more than most, but I have to agree with Michael on this one. Avenger or not, he's still human being. Tony deserved better than to get betrayed by someone he trusted and loved.”

“Well,” a sharp-looking woman says, pushing her glasses up her nose. “As you said, he’s an Avenger, so he should have known what he was signing up for. If he can’t handle the stresses of the job, maybe he should find someone else to pilot his suit or give up being Iron Man.”

The man who spoke first snaps his gaze to her, his eyebrows drawn together. “Excuse me? You think that Tony should give up being Iron Man? He’s been a hero for years. He worked on the Registration Act to protect as many people as he can and pays for the damage done to any property during fights out of pocket! Does any other Avenger do that? Does _anybody_? I’m pretty sure that not even the president could say he’s helped and saved as many people as Iron Man has.”

The woman visibly backtracks against the backlash of her statement. “Well, I mean that if he can’t handle it, maybe it’s better _for him_ if he gives up being Iron Man, at least for the time being.”

Michael gives the camera a look, and the second man coughs and interrupts the tension. “Well, that’s all we’ve got to say on the topic of Tony Stark and Steve Rogers. After a brief commercial, we’ll be discussing the impact of the Registration Act on civilians and the history of Asgard. Stay tuned!”

The screen goes black and Tony keeps staring at it, his fingers tightening around the string, pulling on them until it feels like they’re going to cut into his skin.

What they said isn’t true.

Steve loved him.

_Steve slams the shield down against his chest and the suit dies around him. As he lays there on the concrete floor, blood slipping down the back of his throat, he can’t help but blanch at how his armor- his mask, his greatest creation- is cold and heavy around him._

_It's a coffin._

_One day he’ll die in it._

Steve isn’t cruel.

_“Steve,” Tony breathes out, on all fours, trying to think past the panic throbbing in his mind as he watches Steve walk away. He watches Steve falter before he keeps stepping forward._

_Steve, you promised you wouldn’t go._

_“Steve!”_

Tony doesn’t deserve better. He’s always too weak to protect the ones he loves, too slow to act, too broken to do what he needs to do. He fucks everything up. He can’t do anything up. He’s stupid, he’s broken, he’s a freak, he’s-

He’s _weak_.

_151,600 people in a day._

“Tony, I saw the news report, are you-“ Bruce stops as he sees Tony on the floor, doubled over on himself as he cries with his entire body, sobbing so hard it must hurt. “Hey, buddy, it’s okay.”

_Nothing is okay. I didn’t mean to start a fire, I didn’t mean to get burnt, I didn’t mean to screw everything up._

Bruce kneels beside Tony, hooking his hands under Tony’s arms and helping him to his feet. “Come on, it’s alright. You’re going to be okay.”

_6,316 in one hour._

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Bruce asks, wondering if Tony’s grieving or if he’s finally tumbled down into little-space.

_105 per minute._

“I miss him.”

_2 every second._

Bruce knows the answer, but he asks anyway. “Who?”

Tony’s lip quivers as he presses the backs of his hands to his eyes, tears slipping down his face. “D-daddy,” he whispers, voice broken, unaware of the word that slipped from his mouth, wrapping his arms around Bruce.

 _There’s my answer,_ Bruce thinks. “Friday, protocol 21.”

Bruce quietly thanks his advanced thinking when soft piano music plays through the speakers and the lights dim down enough to be comfortable for anyone, even the Arachnid-kid with super senses. Thor or Loki should be down at any minute now.

“Yeah, I know. You miss your daddy, but it’s okay. You’re safe. We can take care of you, I promise.” But what meaning does a promise hold to someone who’s been lied to and betrayed over and over?

What does “I won’t hurt you” mean to someone who’s heard it from people who always end up hurting him?

Loki walks into the door with Thor just behind him, both looking like they were in the middle of something when the protocol went off and Bruce would laugh from the absurdity of it if it isn’t for Tony’s hands clawing their way into Bruce’s back as if desperate not to be pushed away. Thor’s hair is still dripping, and his clothes look like they were hastily pulled on, while Loki dons sweats and a _Loki: God of The Misfits_ shirt that Bruce has never seen him wear before.

“What happened?” Loki asks, eyes softening as he looks at Tony.

Bruce waves his hand around vaguely. “The news report was too much for him, I think.”

Thor pushes the droplets of water from his face, looking at the bleak room with a frown. _This is no place for a little one_. “We should take him to the nursery, where he will be more comfortable. Hand him over, I will carry him.”

With a little bit of a struggle, Bruce hands Tony over to Thor, glad for Thor’s strength as Thor carries Tony as if he weighs less than a pillow.

“I’m sorry,” Tony whispers against Thor’s chest, his fingers hooking into the damp gray shirt.

Thor shakes his head, “there is no need for you to be sorry, little one.”

Bruce makes sure that Friday prepares the nursery as they transport Tony to the fifth floor. Loki follows them quietly, staying far enough behind that Bruce could almost forget him- if he was able to get the image of Loki’s concern from his mind, he would have. But he can’t.

There’s something else there in Loki’s eyes that go beyond friendly concern or the sadness of a big looking over a hurt little.

Thor told Bruce a little bit about Loki’s past, but it was late at night after a mission and all Bruce really remembered was a harsh governess and the mention of Loki’s screams.

“His nursery, it is stocked?” Loki asks Bruce and he nods.

“Yeah. This place is built so that the fifth floor can accommodate several littles just in case if others fell into little-space while in the building. I think that Clint used the room after his missions. It’s fit for any age a person regresses to and it’s almost always full,” Bruce answers.

A ghost of a smile flits over Loki’s face. “That’s good.” There’s an emotion dancing behind his eyes, but it’s gone before Bruce can understand it.

Thor stops walking, looking around the living room of the fifth floor. “We are here.” There’s a moment of stillness as they all observe the atmosphere, taking in the design and the thought behind the decorations.

Small robots that look like butterflies fly around the room near the ceiling, a purple one landing on a bookshelf that touches the ceiling, filled with different toys and board games and whatever else might be needed by a little. In the corner of the room is the swing-pod-thing that Bruce saw on TV some time ago, inviting anyone to take a seat.

Soft lo-fi music plays on the speakers at a low volume, and calmness sweeps through Bruce in waves as he stands there with his bare feet on the soft colored mats in the living room of the nursery floor.

“Wow,” Bruce finally breathes, unable to say anything more eloquent as one of the butterflies land on his shoulder. “This is… amazing.”

Thor bounces Tony a little, smiling. “Indeed.” He turns to Tony, “You put a lot of thought into this, didn’t you? It is beautiful, Anthony. I love it.”

“Should he change into more comfortable clothes?” Loki asks and Thor hums in thought before he agrees. Thor decides that he’ll be the one to do so, leaving Bruce and Loki in the living room as they wait. Loki takes a seat on the sofa, running his fingers through his hair. “Have you ever taken care of Anthony while he was little before?”

Bruce’s eyes snap to Loki. “N…no, not really. Steve was usually the one who took care of him. I mean, I spent time with him while little and watched over him, but I never actually held sole responsibility of him while he was little.” He pauses for a second. “Have you ever cared for a little?”

Loki nods. “In Asgard, long ago, I took care of 3 little ones of my own, all of whom were the children of my good friend, Sigyn. When Sigyn passed, I was left the sole caretaker of them.”

 _And then what?_ Bruce wants to ask, but he bites his tongue. “You’re a caretaker, then?”

Loki waves his hand. “I’ve not taken the Midgardian test for it, but I assume so. And yourself?”

“Baseline,” he answers. “The majority of humans are. 48 percent are baselines, then 28 percent are little, and 24 percent are caregivers. 

Loki frowns. “There are more littles than caregivers. Does this mean that many littles are left without a proper guardian?”

“Not… really. Some caregivers get more than one little, and there are organizations devoted to helping the littles without families out. So, it works out, usually. Sometimes it doesn’t but…” Bruce shrugs. “It’s better than nothing. Does Asgard have tests for seeing if a person is little or big?”

Loki hesitates briefly, picking lint off his shirt. “They don’t use a test for classification, but it’s more about which one a person feels more comfortable being, not to mention the fact that such a thing is rather normal so it’s just a part of daily life. A person can be whatever they want to be, and act however is natural to them.”

Thor walks into the room after a while with a not-crying Tony in tow, holding his hand. “We’ve returned!” Tony hides behind Thor, wearing a full-body onesie with Vikings all over the front.

Bruce snorts at the clothing. “I'd bet my first-born that Tony didn’t pick that outfit out himself.”

“He… received a little bit of well-meaning guidance,” Thor admits, pushing Tony out from behind him. “But he is no longer weeping, and that is what matters.”

Loki gives Tony a wave. “Hello, little one. Are you hungry?” he asks as Tony only hides himself behind Thor once again. “How old is Anthony when in such a state?”

“He’s typically on the smaller side, between 0 and 3. He technically got classified as a baby.”

 _Just like my Narvi._ The words fall into Loki’s mind softly before he could prevent it, almost as if someone had whispered them into his ear. Images of Narvi flash through his mind, and he remembers holding Narvi to his chest as Narvi trembles, waiting for the guards to pass them.

_“It will be okay. I swear on my life, they will not harm you,” Loki whispers to Narvi and Vali, wishing that he could keep his word, wishing that the court would not declare his darlings another moon-drunk monster._

_[A monster is not a monster if you love him._

_A monster is not a monster if he is your child.]_

_Narvi’s green eyes meet Loki’s, filling with tears and continuing down his pale face. Do **monsters** weep? “Do you promise?”_

_Fenris’ blood still stains Loki’s shirt, but he nods regardless. Come hell or highwater, he will die protecting these two boys-_ **his sons** _._

_“I do,” Loki says._

Thor picks Tony up once again, oblivious to his brother’s mental torment, walking over to the bookshelf and pointing at the different toys. “What would you like, Allerkæreste? The teddy bear, hm? Do you want the bear or the rabbit?”

Tony pulls his face from Thor’s chest, face red, and points at the bear with shaky hands. Bruce winces at the fear in his eyes, as if he’s afraid that at any moment he’d be hurt or left behind. He watches Thor interact with Tony gently, with a patient smile on his face; given a few years, Bruce has no doubt that Thor would be a great caretaker to a little or an actual child. He’s matured a lot since Bruce first met him and the flame inside of him no longer burns quite as devastatingly as a forest fire.

Bruce loves him.

There are no other words to carry the weight of feeling that he feels for Thor. _Love_ only just barely bends and slopes to contain the meaning behind the word, but even still, it is too simple and too ordinary to describe what he feels for the other man.

Bruce would die for Thor.

But Thor makes Bruce want to live for him, too. Bruce never had that before. He never realized that there was an alternative to knowing that he’d die for someone. He never knew that he could _live_ for someone.

"You want the bear?" Thor asks, but Tony remains silent and curls into himself. "Hey now, it's okay. You can have what you want."

Tony picks at his clothes, shaking his head, his soft brown eyes filling with tears again. _No I can't._  Thor gives him a sad smile and picks him up again, murmuring comfort into his ears. 

This entire ordeal is a mess- most of all for Tony. Bruce doesn’t know how they’re going to put back the broken pieces of Tony back together or manage to convince him that if he lets himself be vulnerable that they aren’t about to stab him in the back. There’s an ocean of unsaid words and unspoken thoughts behind Tony’s eyes, and Bruce fears that if none of them can pull Tony back from that edge that he might be washed underneath them, pulled into the depths of his own mind.

Bruce knows that it wouldn’t be Tony's first time dealing with depression and the like, but the sad fact is that now he’s too afraid to trust others to help him. He’s wounded and running on gas, unable to stop; Bruce has been there, of course, trying to keep going as long as he can because he’s scared that he wouldn’t be able to get up again if he stops.

They need to decide who will be the one to take care of Tony. And Bruce knows that between the three of them, they won’t be getting anywhere. Thor would likely try to keep Tony to himself and Loki would stab Thor over it. “Should I… call Pepper? Let her know what’s happening and ask for her opinion?”

Thor shrugs at Bruce’s question, too focused on making the bunny speak in a weird voice that Bruce swears sounds familiar. “’tis I, the mightiest of rabbits!”

Bruce rolls his eyes and pulls out his phone from his pockets. “I’ll be back,” he says to no one in particular, stepping out of the room to tell Pepper- and the rest of the Tony Crew that consists of Pepper, Happy and Rhodey- about today’s events. Hopefully they’ll be able to give him some advice. Or at least come by and say hello to Tony, giving him a familiar face so that he doesn’t think too much about the empty rooms in the compound or the prototype of a shield in the lab.

Plus, they’ve known Tony longer.

If anyone should know what to do, it’s them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not Anti-Steve or anything, but this is from Tony's point of view (mostly). 
> 
> So! Tell me what you think, what you wanna see, what you like and don't like. I'd love to hear some feedback from you guys! So far, you've all been awesome and I'm really glad to receive such warm and kind feedback I really didn't expect that haha thanks! :D


	4. Chapter 4

Thor watches as Tony sits on the floor with a sad smile. It hadn’t been easy to calm him down from such a distraught state and it took nearly 20 minutes just for him to do so. Tony had sobbed limplessly, crying like all the stars were falling out of the sky, and nothing Thor did could help.

He’s never felt so useless before.

Thor did the only thing he could do: he laid Tony down and helped him change from his baggy clothes, unaided and unhindered by the boneless mess of tears, trying to be as swift as he can.

It was a disheartening sight, because no matter what he did, Tony wasn’t comforted. He wanted nothing and yet cried all the same, which meant that the source of his tears came from within, from a pain nestled deep in him that Thor could not take away no matter how much he longs to be able to do so.

The only thing that worked was singing and sitting on the rocking chair until Tony’s tears had dried up, though Thor feels that the only reason that Tony stopped crying isn’t because he’s no longer sad but because he’s cried himself out. Thor has a feeling that Tony would have kept on crying if he could- he certainly has the sadness to do so.

The way that Tony’s eyes filled with tears at such a simple question only prove that further. Thor doesn’t understand what it is that distressed Anthony about the question, but nonetheless, he’ll have to tread carefully.

Those brown eyes fill with tears so easily.

It reminds him of Loki when Loki was but a helpless child, so quick to fall into tears at the slightest provocation. Mother had held him closely then, trying to care for the young prince as if he were her own. In Thor’s eyes, they were brothers, of course, but there was a little glimmer of something behind Frigga’s eyes when she regarded Loki that Thor never saw when she looked at him.

Thor didn’t understand why back then, why Mother cared so greatly for the crying and timid little thing, but now as he thinks back on it he understands.

Thor has and always will be Odin’s son, whereas Loki was Frigga’s child. Whilst Thor trained on the battlefield under Odin’s eye, Frigga snuck Loki away into the garden to teach him how to use his seidr. While Thor was led away to the town by the unfair governess and Loki left behind to reflect on his imagined slights, Loki sat at Mother’s knee, his tears wiped away as she taught him about her Vanir homeland.

They have always been brothers, but they were not both from the same parents; indeed, Thor was Frigga’s child, but Loki was never Odin’s.

Perhaps that is why they didn’t see the signs soon enough.

_Thor walks softly, trying to keep himself hidden as he walks to Loki’s chambers, heart pounding at the sound of the screams that echo from the walls like gunshots. The Grandmaster calls them Soul Wounds- wounds inflicted on the soul of a person that wields seidr, usually by a powerful artifact or weapon. They had twisted Loki into something he wasn’t with the careless use of torture and mind control, meticulously tearing him apart and then stitching him back into something that was unliving yet alive._

_“A living tool,” the Grandmaster says, appearing beside Thor suddenly. “I’ve seen this… handiwork before, actually, it’s quite interesting- this magic signature belongs to the Mad Titan, ah… Thanos. Have you heard of him?”_

_Thor raises his eyes to meet the other man’s. “I will destroy him, or I will die trying.”_

_The pity shines in the Grandmaster’s eyes, his fingers playing with the hair on the base of his neck as he stares at Thor. “There will be no need for that, soldier, thankfully, because the Mad Titan is dead. He’s deceased. He, I believe, tried to wield a weapon his soul couldn’t handle and perished on the spot. Made quite a mess of things.”_

_Thor tries not to flinch as he stands in front of the room, hearing hushed murmurs and his brother’s keening howls so devastating and full of agony that every nerve in Thor sings with second-hand grief._

_“What are they doing to him? How much longer until I can see him?”_

_The Grandmaster taps his index finger on his wrist. “3 days. He is healing. Soul wounds are painful to rid of, you know, for him to be rid of them he must, first, endure the pain. At the moment he has all that… emotion juice shoved into a closet deep inside of him, and it’s festering, so we have to open that closet. It’ll hurt, but it’ll help him step forward. His seidr lashes out during the process, so for someone like you- who does not wield seidr- it could be fatal.”_

_Another scream reaches them, and it takes all of Thor’s willpower to suppress a shiver that runs down his spine._

_The Grandmaster winces. His voice softens. “I don’t think he’d forgive himself for hurting you. Quite a guilt complex with that one.”_

_Thor doesn’t know what to say and the Grandmaster doesn’t say anything else. They stay there, standing outside of the glass overlooking Loki’s room for a long time, the silence only broken by Loki’s howls._

Thor doesn’t understand how it took him so long to see and longer yet to understand. Loki hasn’t been Loki for a very long time and none of them noticed it until it was too late, until emerald green eyes shined blue, until hurt turned into wrath that wasn’t truly his own.

When Tony had cried in  Thor’s hand, it reminded him an awful lot of Loki in Sakaar, pushed to the edge of what he could handle, unable to throw up his defenses and crumbling like ruins at the gentlest breeze.

_“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Tony repeats like a mantra, as if those are the only words he knows, curling into himself as Thor stands over him with a pinched expression._

_“There is no need for you to apologize, little one. You’ve done nothing wrong.”_

_Tony doesn’t seem to hear him, continuing to cry into his hands so hard that his entire body heaves with every sob, his tears staining the soft fleece of the bedsheets._

**_This is it,_ ** _Thor thinks, **this is the end of Tony’s rope.**_

“Stop that,” Loki says, glaring at Thor.

Thor blinks as he is ripped from his circling thoughts. “I’m sorry?”

“You’re thinking,” Loki snaps, “It’s annoying. Not to mention a novel idea- you? Thinking? _Please_.”

“Hey! I am capable of complex and rational thinking. I’m a strategist-“

“Yes, of course.” Loki rolls his eyes, a nail file manifesting in his fingers as he speaks. “How silly of me to forget the world-renowned battle strategy of waiting last minute to have an epiphany and then proceeding to slaughter every enemy with the power you possessed all along. Leaving your kingdom to burn, optional.”

A grimace pulls at Thor’s lips as he stares at his petulant brother. “It was the only choice.”

“Whatever you say, strategist.”

Tony looks up from his spot on the floor, a confused smile forming on his face as he listens to Loki and Thor bicker like kids. He hugs the bear closer to his chest, watching them from behind the protection of the bear.

Thor crosses his arms and leans further against the sofa. “Now, that is not fair. I didn’t throw your melodramatic nature back at your face, nor your horrible taste in clothing!”

“ _MY_ horrible taste in clothing?” Loki stops filing his nails, looking affronted in the same way a PTA mother would be, sitting ramrod straight. “How about your _stupid_ haircut? Your lack of an entire right _eye_?”

“Sorry, did I _choose_ to lose my eye from our evil bi- I mean, _witch_ of a sister? Did I ask that weird old man for a haircut? Did I ask the Norns _“pretty please, let Ragnarok begin”_ because I so desperately longed for chaos?”

“Well, if you simply knew how to be more _strategic_ -“

A sound of laughter interrupts them just as they look 2 seconds away from jumping at each other in the way all brothers do, with childish rage and knives.  Their eyes snap to Tony, who has a small smile on his face as he meets their gaze. The fury on Thor’s face melts and he gives Tony a grin in return. “My, my, my. Are you taking pleasure at my expense, little one? I didn’t know you had such a pretty-sounding laugh.”

Loki’s muscles untense like a rubber band being put down instead of snapped forward _. No murder in front of the children._

Bruce steps back into the room, pocketing his phone and looking at the three people in the room. “So, the short story is that Pepper and Rhodey will be coming over at some point, probably soon.”

Loki watches Bruce as he walks to sit beside Thor. When it’s obvious that Bruce isn’t going to elaborate further, he pushes. “And the long story?”

“If any of us hit Tony, make Tony cry, or any way hurt Tony, we will all be found dead in a ditch on some road in Texas,” Bruce answers with a straight face. Loki doesn’t disbelieve the words; from what he’s seen of the War Machine and Pepper they are both highly protective of Anthony.

As they should be.

It’s good to know that there are still people who care for Anthony’s well-being.

Loki checks the clock on the wall. “It is night. Someone should stay with Anthony and I vote that it’s me. Thank you for your help in transporting him, but you are no longer needed.”

“Brother, you need not worry yourself, for I will love to be the one to stay the night. You need the rest.”

“I need your face gone from this room is what I need, _brother_ ,” Loki snaps back with a frown, already standing.

Bruce fidgets, pushing his feet into the carpet. “Actually, I think it’s best if I do it.” Thor and Loki’s heads whip around to look at him, Loki curious and Thor betrayed. “I mean, he’s strung up all tight. I think I… could be helpful to him.”

Rain taps against the window, light and soothing. “I do not wish to leave him,” Thor says, looking at Tony.

Bruce sighs in defeat. “Can we all stay in the same room and promise not to murder one another for the sake of Tony?”

Loki looks away, pulling out his knives and placing it on the coffee table. “For tonight.”

Thor places Stormbreaker on the table as well, nearly snapping it in half from the weight alone.

“And of course _I’m_ the diva,” Loki says under his breath, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “Will we all stay with him or take shifts?”

They share a silent look over Tony’s head, who keeps his gaze on the ground, picking at the fur on the bear’s head. They come to the same conclusion- Tony needs as lively of an environment as possible, though it should be kept noted that he’s likely one second away from an overload at any given moment.

Bruce pushes the glasses back on his nose, sniffing. “I think we should all stay.”

“Wanna go home,” Tony says, breaking the silence, taking them all by surprise. When Tony had stepped into the room with his gaze on the floor, they’d all assumed that Tony wouldn’t speak unless prompted.

Tony doesn’t move his gaze from the ground, nor does he stop his persistent picking.

Bruce looks at the other two before he speaks, but they are both at a loss for words, still trying to process Tony’s words. “You are home.”

Tony’s silent, his brow scrunching up as he thinks past the littlespace clouding his mind with colors and feelings. “ _No_. **_Home_**. Home is _happy_.”

The silence is palpable, a physical presence that climbs down Tony’s throat and clenches its fists around his heart. He knows that no home awaits him, and there is nobody to hold him.

He’s one of the Unlovable’s that primary school warned about, one of the little’s that can’t keep a caregiver because he’s not good, not sweet, not anything that anyone would want.

He’s just a broken mess of a little.

He can’t even stop crying.

_Never show your heart to anyone._

He’s just so sad inside, there’s a gaping feeling inside of him that’s like a hunger of the soul, yearning and aching with all the sorrow of the universe.

_Caring is a disadvantage that can kill you but keep your heart beating long enough to extend the agony._

He wants to cry it all out but if he cries it all out, then what will remain?

If he rids himself of the pain, what will there be left of him?

This time, it’s Loki who plucks him from the ground and sways him, shushing him with soft spoken words he can’t hear past the buzzing of his own ears. The tears fall freely, though he doesn’t want to keep crying in front of them.

He doesn’t want to keep being such a _baby_ , but he can’t stop crying and he can’t stop himself from wrapping both his arms around Loki’s neck because everything aches in the most painful of ways.

“Tell me what you need,” Loki murmurs, holding him close as Tony chokes on a sob. “Nobody will hurt you anymore, Anthony. You are safe. We will care for you and tend to your needs. It’s okay. If it is not okay, then I will _make_ it so. Fret not, we will not leave nor hurt you. Just let it out.”

He allows Tony to keep crying in his arms, wondering how much more the Midgardian could keep this up before he makes himself sick. He turns to Thor, signaling for him to make a bottle silently, not wanting to speak unless necessary.

Bruce turns up the music a bit more to fill the silence, pushing his toes into the rug as Loki stands near the window overlooking the lustrous night sky. Loki never got the chance to truly know Rogers, only knowing him from stories told by mouth and memories shared by Bruce and Thor, but as Tony buries his head in Loki’s shoulder he must ask _why_.

For so righteous a man, why is he the face of Tony’s nightmares? _Why_? What happened between them? Why is Tony so _hurt_?

He will need to discuss this further with Thor; he needs more information about this situation if he is to get involved in it. And with the way that things are going, with the way his heart bangs against his chest, he knows that he has already been pulled into the intricate mess of the Avengers’ lives.

_The hall is empty, as they usually are, and Loki pauses as he hears a conversation behind one of the unmarked doors. The raised voices come from Tony and Tony’s friend, the man who calls himself Rhodey. Loki’s eyes jump from the empty hall to the closed door. He is on his way to the pool, his bag under his arm, a towel thrown over his shoulder._

_Yet the voices are distressed, and he cannot help but step closer to the door, throwing up a minor illusion to cloak his presence._

_“You don’t understand, Rhodey!” Tony says, and it is obvious from the sound of his voice that he’s pacing, moving from one side of the room to the other. “I’m absolutely fine! There is nothing wrong with me.”_

_“Fine my ass,” Rhodey throws back in such a manner that Loki could almost imagine the way his arms are crossed over his chest, a disappointed and concerned look on his face. “You haven’t slept in 2 days. You haven’t eaten in 3. If it wasn’t for the serum-“_

_There’s a brief pause, and in spite of himself, Loki wonders if they’ve detected him._

_“Sorry,” Rhodey says finally, “I’m just saying that if you weren’t enhanced, you’d be dead with the way you’re taking care of yourself. You have to let us in, man. We care about you. You have to let me help you. You don’t have to do this alone anymore, Tones.”_

_Loki shifts from foot to foot, waiting with bated breath for Tony’s reply._

_“I can’t-“ Tony begins before he stops. “I can’t sleep. I keep seeing **him** in my dreams, always with the shield, always with the… I don’t wanna keep seeing him every time I close my eyes. It’s a fucking mess, I admit that. I take full responsibility for my mind being a mess, but… I don’t know what to do anymore.” _

There is a wreckage of a home and Loki is standing right in the middle of it.

“Here,” Thor says, passing the bottle over to Loki. Loki takes the bottle with one hand, using his seidr to feel the temperature to ensure that it is the right temperature before nodding in approval. He presses it to Tony’s lips, but Tony only turns his head away, his shoulders trembling.

_“Are you afraid to die, Anthony?” Obadiah asks him, a cold smile on his face._

Tony could die in seconds, right now, right here.

Thor, God of Thunder.

Loki, God of Mischief and Fire.

Bruce Banner, the Hulk.

It would be over in seconds for him if they decided to kill him, nano-tech be damned.

_“Steve, please.”_

The nursery has bots programmed to protect the littles, of course. There are AI’s that he made from Vision and Jarvis, things that could achieve sentience like that of humans; Karla and Iain could rush into this room within seconds, but would that be fast enough?

_Steve, you promised-_

Would it be enough?

_There’s nothing wrong with me._

_Are you afraid to die?_

Tony isn’t afraid to die.

 _I can’t sleep_.

But he's terrified nonetheless. There are things far worse than death, things far worse than oblivion, and they haunt him in his sleep.

Loki presses the bottle into his mouth again and this time he lets him, succumbing. Surrendering.

Heartrate: 82 bpm, slowing.

Respiratory rate: 16, decreasing.

Tony focuses on the sensations of Loki’s shirt in his fists and the taste of milk- with sugar- on his tongue. He doesn’t like milk in its raw form, but he finds that he enjoys this version of it. Steve used to put vanilla extract, but this… this works too.

_Tell me what you need._

His muscles loosen, and he opens his eyes. He doesn’t know when he closed them, but he scans the room with heavy eyes. Bruce is sitting on the floor with his head on Thor’s leg, his knees pulled to his chest, looking like he’s seconds away from falling asleep himself. Thor runs his fingers through Bruce’s hair idly, reading a book; he looks up and catches Tony’s gaze, giving Tony a gentle smile and a nod.

_You are safe._

Tony lets his exhaustion win out and allows himself to fall asleep in Loki’s arms. The soft beat of the music follows him to Morpheus’ arms.

He dreams of snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who do you think should be Tony's caretaker? 
> 
> Should Steve and Tony fix their relationship?  
> Should Thor tend to him?  
> Should Loki?  
> Pepper?  
> Rhodey?
> 
> ...Happy?
> 
> Or should Tony just call the agency and find someone completely new?
> 
> Leave thoughts in the comments!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper and Loki talk, Bruce and Tony play, and a dynamic begins to form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the input, guys! I've decided on a caretaker for Tony, which will be built on more in the next chapter. I need a bridge chapter between the last chapter and the next so this is what came of it.

“Let me see him,” Pepper says the moment she steps into the living room, ready to meet a god’s eyes without flinching. She’s ready to burn the heavens above if it means keeping Tony safe from heartbreak just _this one time_. She’s failed too many times already. “If he’s hurt, I swear to _god_ -“

Loki opens his eyes and breaks his meditative stance, standing. “He is unharmed, as he should be,” says he. “He is peacefully resting in the nursery. Thor is watching over him as we speak. Can I offer you a cup of coffee?”

Pepper purses her lips and crosses her arms. “I want to see him first, and then we can have coffee.”

Loki gestures placatingly, pointing to the door. “As you wish.” Pepper takes that as her cue- she definitely isn’t asking for permission- to enter the room, keeping her steps light. She has to know that Tony’s okay.

After last time…

She can’t _lose_ him.

After everything they’ve been through together, she _can’t_ lose him. She’s come too close too many times. She doesn’t know if he can just spring back together this time.

As Loki told her, Tony’s asleep, curled into himself even in sleep, all the softer parts of him hidden by elbows and knees. It’s a defense position.

Pepper remembers a time when Tony didn’t sleep like that, even if it’s been years since. She remembers seeing him before Afghanistan, before John, before the Avengers, before Steve, before the Civil War.

There’s a lot of _before_ ’s for Tony. 

She hopes that this time there’ll be an _after_ too.

Pepper runs her fingers through his hair, knowing it calms him down even when he’s asleep. The furrow of his eyebrows uncrease, his breath evening out.

 _Rest, my love_.

She turns and follows Loki out the door. “I’ll have that coffee now, please.” She blinks when Loki hands her a coffee that materializes out of nowhere, not even surprised or confused anymore. “Thanks.”

“You worry about him,” Loki says, taking a seat on the sofa. He makes a cup of tea for himself, watching Pepper carefully.

Pepper blows on the drink, taking a seat and crossing her legs. “Well, he’s a dear friend of mine, you could say. We’ve known each other for years.” She takes a cautious sip. “And what about you? Why are _you_ here?”

Loki shrugs, not knowing the answer to the question. He doesn’t have a reason to care for Anthony, but he wishes to nonetheless.

He doesn’t know why he’s here yet, only that he wants to be. And wanting is such a _foreign_ feeling, even after all this time, that he doesn’t understand it. For so long, he’s only been told to do as he’s told, to want what the Mad Titan wants, that now he still cannot understand what it means to long for something, to _choose_.

_“You are a machine,” the Titan says with a small laugh, putting down the scalpel on the metal table. “Perhaps not physically, that’s true. I don’t think I want to spoil your unmarred face with steel and iron. I prefer to keep you like this- untainted on the outside, yet corrupted on the inside. Is that not the true definition of being a monster, after all?”_

_Loki writhes against the restraints as Titan turns on the machine hooked to his chest, clenching his teeth around the scream building in his throat. The Titan continues his speech, “You will do as I order. Once this procedure is finished, you will know nothing but your mission and you will do nothing but the tasks I order you to do. You will be my weapon and perhaps, when you are finished with your mission and I feel merciful, I might even let you live.”_

But he _wants_ to be with the Midgardian youngling, and he _chooses_ to care after him. Surely that cannot be meaningless?

“I read your files,” Pepper says, and Loki’s eyes flick over to her. “They did psychological examinations on you upon your entry to earth alongside all the others. You submitted to all of them except for the Pavel- Woodley Test. You didn’t want to get classified, you said. Why?”

Loki bites his lip, remembering little of that day except that he’d said _no_ and they’d accepted his request not to take the test. Then again, after listening to him talk about his trauma for several hours straight, one would be hesitant to deny his choices, so it might have been simple Midgardian mercy. “I used to be a caretaker. I don’t want to discuss this further.”

Pepper squints at him for a few long seconds before she nods once. “I understand. There are other matters I need to discuss with you anyway.”

Loki nods. He’s not the best at this- this communication thing- but he does try. Most days, anyway. Days when he has the effort to put into actively trying to maintain conversation and interaction with others.

Today, he feels okay. It’s going to be a good day.

He’s okay.

It’s going to be a good day.

His therapist tells him to remind himself of that every morning so that he’s ready for the day. Positive thinking, she says. He does it out of mere habit at this point. Saying the day will be good does nothing to stop the onslaught of madmen that come his way.

“Alright,” says he, gesturing for her to continue, tapping his fingers against the side of his _‘Never Stop Dreaming’_ mug that he got from a Sakaarian gift-shop.

Pepper uncrosses her legs, then crosses them again before she speaks.

They talk about many things- the public’s discord over Tony and Steve, the fact that Tony and his suit are _literally_ one and he can control nano-technology with just a thought, the fact that Loki’s therapist says that he’s now “fit for integration into human society”. They talk until the sun is high in the sky. Loki doesn’t mind her presence.

She reminds him of Mother. Her strong-willed and no-nonsense yet gentle personality reminds him of Frigga and her warmth, her _brilliance_. He can understand how Tony was drawn to Pepper ~~and he wonders why it didn’t work.~~

The soft padding of feet is what brings their conversation to a halt, both of their eyes immediately flickering over to the door. Tony stands there with his eyes fixed on both of them like a deer caught in the headlights, shifting from foot to foot as he regards them warily and uncertainly. Loki opens his mouth to speak but Pepper beats him to it. “Tony,” she says, stretching out her hand to him. “Come here, honey. Good morning.”

“Mornin’,” Tony mumbles, pressing himself against her side without hesitation, knowing that she won’t push him away. “Why’re you here? Work?”

Loki watches them curiously, noting that Tony’s speaking more now than he did the entire night before. Pepper shakes her head, running her fingers through his hair on habit. “I just wanted to say hello to my favorite little guy in the world.” Just to make sure that Tony doesn’t misconstrue her words, she clarifies. “That’s you.”

Tony hums, his head on her shoulder. “Why?”

“I missed you,” she says, glad that she can say that now without things being awkward between them. She’s glad that they can put the past behind them without it affecting their relationship. They did, after all, end on a peaceful note of mutual understanding that they just weren’t in the right place in their life for a relationship. It was their last break-up after several. They’d kept on breaking up and then Tony just _couldn’t_ take it anymore. Pepper couldn’t take it anymore.

_Tony looks at the cup in his hands, running his fingers over the giraffe drawing, silent as Pepper takes a seat across from him. The question of 'what do you want' hangs in the air between them for a long time before Tony answers. “I don’t know what I want, I just… I can’t do this anymore, Pep. You and I fight all the time, you want me to stop being Iron Man and I **can't** , people have started to use you against me, and I-” he stops, trying to find the right words._

_Pepper doesn’t speak for a long time, but Tony knows she heard him._

_“I’m scared all of the time I’ll lose you. Last week-“ he swallows against the rise of emotions in his chest. “They got you. They could have hurt you and it would have been my-“ **My fault,** he wanted to say past the ice in his chest but he couldn’t even bring himself to say the damn words. "Pepper, please. You have to understand. I love you, but... but I can't let them hurt you and I can see that this relationship is only hurting you."_

_Pepper nods, placing her hand on Tony’s. “I get it. I… I think you’re right. This is driving the both of us into the ground.” She wipes a tear from her face. "I do love you, Tony, I always have, but this... this is not what we need right now. There's too many things pulling us apart. Maybe at some point we could try again, but... for now, I think it's best we go our own ways."_

_“Can we still… be friends?” Tony hesitantly asks._

_Pepper gives him a hug and Tony closes his eyes against the tears building in them. “Of course. Don’t think you can get me out of your life that easily,” she says with a wet laugh. “I’ll still always be here for you, when you need me.”_

_Tony smiles and lets himself melt into her arms, a sigh of relief leaving his lips. He was so terrified she'd leave for good, that he'd lost another person due to his own flawed nature. "Thank you."_

“How’s Karla?” Pepper asks, looking up as Iain walks into the room, blinking at her. As much as she loves Friday, U, DUM-E, and Butterfingers, she can’t deny that she finds Iain and Karla the most human out of them. They do, after all, possess human-like bodies that are almost indistinguishable from ordinary humans. If it isn’t for the patch on their shirts with their name in blocky letters, Pepper might forget that they aren’t human.

She sometimes thinks that the reason for the bots’ creations must have something to do with Tony’s need to make something human out of steel and code.

She sometimes thinks it’s just Tony’s fear of being alone.

Iain gives Pepper a small smile. “Good morning, Miss Potts. Good morning, Loki. Today is a good day with good weather ahead.” He quickly turns without listening to their responses, organizing the shelves until they are in pristine order.

“Karla’s good,” Tony responds easily, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He doesn’t feel as small now that he’s well rested and the words come to the front of his mind easily, the cloud of littleness no longer affecting his vocabulary. He’s at maybe 5 at the moment. If he’s lucky, he might even be able to get to the lab by the end of the day when everyone else is fast asleep.

He tries to avoid Loki’s gaze, feeling an odd stirring inside of him at the memories of last night, being held in Loki’s arms like he was something delicate. There’s something in his chest that doesn’t make sense, feeling painfully close to an ache even if he knows that his insides are in perfect condition _\- thanks, Thaddeus._ After Thaddeus’ invasive surgery, Tony was driven to find some way to claim it back as his own, so he did the only “rational” thing (while sleep deprived of course): turn his own body into armor with nano-bots in his bloodstream, run by an RT node to enable the armor to respond to mental commands.

It lets the armor self-repair and lets him manifest anything he wants from his body. If he wants to make his hand look like a giant donut, he absolutely fucking can.

_Iron Man and I are one._

Loki doesn’t look at him with disgust or disdain though, instead giving him a soft smile.

Tony doesn’t understand, but he doesn’t mention it and thankfully, neither does Loki. He doesn’t want to think about the way that Thor had carried him without question, with Loki and Bruce walking a bit behind them as Thor took him to the nursery.

He doesn’t want to consider what this means. He’s been trying to keep them at arm’s length, pushing them away every time they tried to poke at his little side.

But now they saw him as he had a breakdown over a stupid interview. They _know_.

Loki’s eyes track the android as it kneels to sort out the bottom shelves. “Is that a robot?” Tony’s taught him a bit about the machines he creates, but this one is not something he’s seen before. It looks _human_ and although that’s slightly disorienting, he finds it a curious thing.

“Yes,” Pepper answers, running her fingers through Tony’s hair one more time before she stands and walks to the coffee maker. “That one is Iain. The woman is Karla. They were made to care after people who have no one else to tend to them, as well as providing aid in difficult situations when humans are unavailable.”

She knows because the bot has dominated the robot industry, boosting the SI’s reputation by about 17% in the short time that the bots have been made public.

They’ve sold numerous copies, helping people all over the country, from the elderly to the babies to the people who needs someone for panic attacks. The beautiful thing about the bots is that they adapt and learn how to care for their patient no matter what their patient is dealing with.

“Fascinating,” says Loki, watching as the bot, Iain, turns and gives him a curious look. _It’s brilliant,_ Loki thinks.

Iain’s lip twitches. “I’m glad you think so. You are, according to my definition of “fascinating”, fascinating as well. I highly like the history of Asgard and Vanaheim.”

“You know of Vanaheim?” Loki tries not to notice the way his stomach sinks, eyes darting around the room for a second. Pepper makes a cup of coffee for herself, back turned on them. Loki’s vaguely aware of Pepper telling Tony that she’ll be right back but he focuses on the machine.

Iain nods once. “I have done my research on the topic after coming across a book on Norse gods in Tony’s room.” Iain pushes the bin back into the bookshelf before he stands, scanning the shelf for other things out of place before deciding that it’s a good enough job for now. “Frigga is one of the most honorable of the goddesses, I believe. I find that her grace while being married off to the king of Asgard after Vanaheim had been conquered highlights her strength as an individual. Her way of seeing the future also shows her skill with seidr.”

Loki ignores the dry feeling in his throat, giving the robot a sad smile. “I agree. She is the strongest person I know.”

Tony sits up straight, heat jumping to his face. Frigga is never a topic to casually mention. Little or not, Tony knows this. “I- Loki, I- I didn’t know he would- He isn’t programmed to…” The words don’t line up right, too many things spinning in his mind for him to grasp onto one single thought. What he wants to say doesn’t match with what leaves his lips.

“It’s fine,” Loki responds with a wave of his hand. _Mother would have been enraptured by the technology._

A tense silence fills the room, during which Iain stares between the two of them for a second before walking to the other cabinet in the room and working on organizing that instead. Tony estimates that his heart rate is at 122 bpm and rising steadily.

The tension is broken when Pepper walks in with Thor and Bruce in tow, the latter’s hair being insanely messy, curls covering his forehead. Both turn to look and by the time they both look at each other the atmosphere feels easier to breathe. Tony’s hands unfurl from fists, falling to his side.

“You’re a sneaky one,” Thor says with a kind smile, running his fingers through the hair he’s still getting used to having. “I didn’t even notice you were gone. How’d you sneak past me, eh?” He walks over and places a hand on Tony’s shoulder playfully, watching as Tony leans into his touch without knowing it.

Bruce slides past them and heads straight for the coffee that Pepper made for him, needing something to wake him up. Karla steps into the room and scans Bruce with a slight frown. “You should have that coffee with a meal, Bruce. It would be much healthier.”

Bruce turns and gives Karla a small, confused smile. “I… I’m fine, thank you. I’ll eat later on.”

“You need to eat, Bruce.”

“I’m not… hungry.”

Karla frowns slightly and Bruce hurries to turn away so that he doesn’t have to face her disappointed gaze. Pepper watches and smiles. “Karla’s more used to caring for everyone, Bruce. She often works in daycares, nurseries, hospitals, schools, and more. She’s been programmed to make sure everyone receives optimal care, regardless of their actual need for it.”

Bruce nods, a blush creeping up his neck as he observes the bots. He’ll probably never get used to being acknowledged as a human being by anyone, human or android doesn't really matter. “It’s… interesting. I wish I was here while Tony was making it, so I could have studied the code.”

“You can, if you want?” Tony says, and Bruce turns and sees the glimmer of hope on Tony’s face. With that face greeting him, he doesn’t know how anyone could possibly say no. He nods, and a smile brightens up Tony’s eyes. “Yay! We can work on something like, like a robot, if you’d like?”

Bruce smiles. “Sure, we can work on a robot. What type?”

Tony rattles off something about a simple alarm clock that they could then improve, eyes beaming like a kid in a candy shop. Bruce feels himself smiling before he registers it, feeling himself growing as excited as Tony just by listening. His happiness is _contagious_.

It’s the moments like these that he remembers that behind the public façade, Tony is made of tar-black heartache in his bone marrow, his bones made of Corinthian columns, his mind clutching desperately to logic and rationality as his only weapon in a world of beastly men and man-like beasts.

Tony takes by the hand and drags him to the building station, Karla following them, and Thor and Loki exchange a look before they both decide to go as well. Pepper watches them go with a small smile.

Yes, this seems like it could definitely work out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for commenting what you want from this fic, it was very fun to read and see what everyone thought. For now, I've decided on what dynamic I want from this fic so I'll be writing that. 
> 
> Question of the chapter is: what are your thoughts on having Bruce be little?

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you like it! Let me know what you think! This is my first age-play fic.
> 
> There's more to come.


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